My dear Gerald, women are meant to be loved, not to be understood.
It’s queer how out of touch with truth women are! They live in a world of their own, and there had never been anything like it, and never can be.
To be female in this place is to be an open wound that cannot heal.
As a woman, I have no country. As a woman I want no country. As a woman my country is the whole world.
Woman's heart and mind are insoluble puzzles to the male.
Girls are incomparably wilder and more effervescent than boys, more untamable and regardless of rule and limit, with an ever-shifting variety, breaking continually into new modes of fun, yet with a harmonious propriety through all.
If men could see us as we really are, they would be a little amazed; but the cleverest, the acutest men are often under an illusion about women.
For women live much more in the past than we do, he thought. They attach themselves to places; and their fathers—a woman’s always proud of her father.
Woman has the been the antithesis in the dialect of creation quite long enough.
To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few.
My women suffer because most of the women I talk to seem to have suffered.
Man rarely places a proper valuation upon his womankind, at least not until deprived of them. He has no conception of the subtle atmosphere exhaled by the sex feminine, so long as he bathes in it; but let it be withdrawn, and an ever-growing void begins to manifest itself in his existence, and he becomes hungry, in a vague sort of way, for a something so indefinite that he cannot characterize it.